


The Sound of Silence

by Mutt_Winchester



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Series, younger Viktor, younger yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mutt_Winchester/pseuds/Mutt_Winchester
Summary: Despite what many people undoubtedly thought Viktor Nikiforvo liked silence. And it seems like he's not the only Russian skater who does. When a knock on the door causes Viktor's plans to change, the change isn't all that bad.





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> So I just became obsessed with this awesome anime and fell in love with Yuri Plisetsky! This story takes place three+ years before the series starts. Viktor is 24 and Yuri is 12. I jumped on the band-wagon that Yuri's family is not all that great (not including his awesome grandfather!). 
> 
> Let me know if I need to tag anything else. The Child Abuse tag refers to events that aren't described in this story, they are mentioned and implied, same with the Child Neglect.
> 
> Only Beta read by myself so please let me know if there are obvious, eye-twitching mistakes. Enjoy!

**The Sound of Silence**

 

Despite what many people undoubtedly thought Viktor Nikiforvo liked silence.

 

The twenty-four-year old liked when he could curl up on the couch with a book, a cup of tea, and his beloved dog, Makkachin. And that was just what he planned to do on the Friday evening. The competition year may have ended a few weeks earlier but that didn’t mean that training was over. Training was a year-long activity with his rink-mates under Yakov Feltsman.

 

Viktor, however, didn’t need to be at the rink tomorrow until mid-morning for training. He could have a relaxing evening. He had barely gotten out of the shower and decided that a cup of tea and maybe a chapter or two of his new book was in order before he attempted to cook some dinner. He knew he wasn’t the greatest cook but he had some left-overs that were just as good the next day (or three days later).

 

Viktor was filling the kettle with water when he heard the soft sound of someone knocking on his apartment door. Frowning down at Makkachin, who tilted his head in confused at the sound before the poodle walked towards the front door. Putting the kettle on the stove to start boiling Viktor walked to the door. Without even bothering to look through the peep-hole the figure skater opened the door to reveal the last person he expected.

 

Yuri Plisetsky stood outside his door wearing dark grey sweat-pants and a black hoodie. The child, and yes Viktor had no problems calling the younger skater a child because the boy was barely twelve years old, was hugging his arms around his stomach and looking down at the ground. The boy’s school bag and sports bag were hanging from his back and side.

 

It was surprising the say the least. Of course, this wasn’t the first time that Yuri had been to Viktor’s apartment, far from it. The child had been there over the course of his training under Yakov. Despite the twelve year difference the two Russians were rink-mates after all and did spend some time off the ice together.

 

However, this was the first time that Yuri had come to Viktor’s place by himself. Usually the boy came over with Yakov or Mila Babichara. Once or twice the boy had been over with his grandfather, Nikolai.

 

Viktor watched as the child looked up before quickly looking back down at his shoes and hugging himself tighter. He was using his hood and blond hair to cover his face. Now, Viktor has seen Yuri with a wide range of emotion, the most often being anger and annoyance but never had he seen the child look so lost. It was something Viktor really didn’t know how to react to.

 

Despite widespread belief, Viktor could have tact when it was needed most. And right know seemed to be the time to have sensitivity. Smiling softly the older skater stepped to the side to welcome the child.

 

“Ah, Yuri, a surprise. Come in, come in,” Viktor said as he carefully watched Yuri.

 

When Yuri didn’t say a biting remark (something along the line as “about time, old man!”) while that was when Viktor knew that something was wrong. The young Russian had been quiet the past few days. It had been a welcome change but at the same time very strange.

 

Fourteen months ago (or was it fifteen? Viktor couldn’t remember) Yuri had moved in with Yakov. The move from Moscow to St. Petersburg had been the decision to be closer to the rink, to save the trouble of traveling over an hour, one way, to get to training. The move allowed for Yuri to focus more on ice skating (which seemed to be what the child wanted to do). It also caused less of an economic strain on Nikolai of paying the train ticket (and bringing his grandson to the ice rank).

 

Due to the arrangement, Yuri spent his week in St. Petersburg and his grandfather came Friday to pick up the child before bringing him back early Monday morning. Of course, the pair would come back Saturday morning for practice but that was wrapping up (at least for Yuri) by mid-afternoon. The system seemed to be working. Yuri was always excited Friday afternoons to see his grandfather, he did, however, come back Mondays sour at the thought of leaving his _deduskha_ and his delicious pirozhki.

 

However, every three months or so it was Yuri’s mother, Elizaveta, who came to pick up her son and spend the weekend with him. Viktor always noticed those weekends because Yuri became distance (not to say that the child wasn’t already) but he didn’t even yell back at Yakov or call Georgi annoying or Viktor over-dramatic, and he seemed to tolerate Mila hugging him (and that was saying something).  

 

Yesterday after Elizaveta Plisetsky had come to the ice rank to pick up Yuri and the child hadn’t been happy, if anything he had be terrified, it set off warning bells in Viktor’s head that he chose to ignore. Elizaveta was a polite woman with a warm smile, or so it seemed, but Yuri had made a point of not getting near his mother until he had no choice.

 

Today at practice Viktor had watched as Yuri had fallen more than he had in years. At first, Viktor thought it was nerves of performing in front of his mother but every time Yuri got up he refused to look at anyone and was nearing shaking. Viktor had thought that had merely been the cold temperature of the ice but thinking back he remembered the child looking scared.

 

Viktor gave Yuri space as the young skater walked in. Makkachin greeted the child with a bark and jumping up to lick his face. It said something about Yuri’s state-of-mind when he didn’t really react to Makkachin pouncing on him. While Yuri didn’t mind the poodle’s presence, the child was more of a cat person. Closing the door and putting a hand on Yuri’s back to push the child forward, Viktor was shocked that Yuri didn’t snap at him as the older skater guided where the pre-teen would go. Moving around so he was in front of the blond, who was still looking down as his feet. Viktor gave a light smile as he carefully watched Yuri’s expression.

 

“Have you eaten yet, Yuri?” Viktor asked.

 

Yuri shook his head without looking up but he did hold out one hand to pet Makkachin. The dog cuddled close to the child, seeming to sense that something was wrong but not quite sure what it was.

 

 _I don’t know what’s wrong either, Makkachin._  

 

“I’m making some tea. Would you like some?”

 

At Yuri’s slow nod Viktor tilted his head as Makkachin had done earlier to show his confusion. “Well, you can put your bags in the guest room if you like, whatever you feel more comfortable with,” Viktor offered. “The guest room is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is right next door.”

 

Viktor watched as Yuri didn’t react but simply moved (as if on auto-pilot) to the guest room. Letting his soft smile fall from his face Viktor entered the kitchen with Makkachin on his heels looking up at him worriedly. Reaching in his cabinet for a tea pot, because with another person he was going to make more tea, he also grabbed two mugs. Grabbing his favorite mug (the one that had little poodle faces on it) and the one he _knew_ was Yuri’s favorite (even if the boy would never admit it). The mug had little tiger cubs on it and Viktor had bought it for the younger skater years ago.

 

While he waited for the water to boil Viktor looked in his fridge and was glad to note that he had enough left-overs for Yuri and himself. Taking them out Viktor turned to pre-heat the oven to re-heat the food that would allow the pair to relax before the awkwardness of eating together. Viktor truly wanted to ask what was wrong but decided to wait until Yuri spoke.

 

Before Viktor’s mind could wander his phone buzzed to signal a text-message.

 

            **From Mila B.**

**Have you seen Yuri?**

 

Viktor was about to type that Yuri was here when he saw the blond enter the bathroom. That wasn’t surprising but Viktor swore he saw Yuri’s shoulders shaking and the pre-teen was rubbing an arm across his face as he quietly shut the door.

 

            **To Mila B.**

**_Nyet_. Why? Something happen?**

**From Mila B.  
            Yakov called. Yura is missing. And he’s not answering my calls or texts. He was supposed to go back to the hotel with his mother. But…**

**To Mila B.**

**But…**

**From Mila B.**

**Nothing. Just… text me if you hear anything.**

**From Mila B.**

**Also, Yakov will probably call you.**

 

Viktor replied with a quick ‘of course’ as the bathroom door opened and Yuri walked out. The blond was sniffing and small drops of water was clinging to his growing bangs. _He washed his face_ Viktor noted. Yuri’s blue-green eyes looked a little red but Viktor decided not to comment on it.  In all honestly, Viktor felt that he was acting like an adult but most people (including Yakov) would probably say about time. But Viktor liked to be direct but experience taught him that Yuri didn’t response to direct comments. It caused the child to either clam up or lash out in anger.

 

Yuri entered the kitchen and sat down on a bar stool. He looked smaller without his bags weighing him down but he still didn’t look relaxed at all. Viktor busied himself with grabbing the loose tea from the cabinet to get ready for putting it in the tea pot. He placed Yuri’s mug in front on him and was happy to note that the child unwrapped his arms from around himself and hugged the empty mug close to his body.

 

“I have some left-over Borscht. I know that it’s probably nothing like your _dedushka_ ’s pirozhki but it’s something,” Viktor stated. “Besides I’m sure Yakov wouldn’t want us to eat too much food.”

 

Viktor watched as Yuri didn’t response, not in words or shaking or nodding his head. This was the most unexpressive he had ever seen the young skater and it was beginning to freak him out but he tried to continue to be the adult and keep calm. The sound of the kettle boiling caused both Viktor and Yuri to jump but Viktor recovered sooner as he poured the boiling water into the tea pot. Glancing at the microwave timer he knew that in what it would take for the tea to brew it would be time to place the left-overs in the oven.

 

Watching as Yuri stayed quiet was shocking for Victor, it also made him wonder why Yuri was here. No doubt the young skater admired Viktor for his talent but from the way the twelve-year-old acted he found Viktor’s actions at the home rink to be embarrassing. Especially considering Mila’s text messages. Yakov had tried contacting Mila and would probably call Georgi and maybe Yuri’s tutor before the older man called Viktor.

 

The silence allowed for Viktor to reflect on Yuri’s schedule. The pre-teen balanced school work and skating nearly every day. The older skater could count on one hand the number of times Yuri had asked for help on something school-related or something ice related. The boy was proud and hated showing any kind of weakness. From Viktor’s limited knowledge Yuri’s parents had gotten divorced when he was seven and four years later his father had died in a car accident.

 

Yuri had been skating with their small elite group for almost a year at the time of his father’s death and the child had thrown himself into figure skating to block out the pain. Viktor had no idea what it was like to lose a parent. Both his parents were alive but he had little to do with them (and he was fine with that) but Yuri, well it was hard to tell what Yuri wanted.

 

The beeping of the timer had Viktor putting the food in the oven and taking out the loose-leaf tea in over to pour into the two mugs. “I’ll need the cup, Yuri,” Viktor said as he carefully poured the hot liquid into his mug before holding his hand out to Yuri.

 

“Why don’t we move into to the couch?” Viktor offered. “It will take some time for the food to heat-up.”

 

Viktor watched as Yuri nodded as he picked up his mug of tea and carefully followed the older skater to the couch. The two sat on opposite sides of the couch with Makkachin jumping to be between them. Viktor placed his mug on the side table but watched as Yuri held the mug in his hands as if to soak up the warmth of the hot beverage.

 

A silence fell over the pair, not awkward by any means but the sound of silence seemed to calm Yuri as he breathed in the tea. The blond took a small sip and carefully put the mug down (and just in time in Viktor’s opinion) as the boy’s phone began to ring. Yuri glanced at it but quickly silenced it before he wrapped his arms around himself again.

 

Viktor was about to open his mouth to ask what that was about when his own phone began to ring. Glancing down he saw that it was Yakov and glancing up he saw that Yuri gave him wide eyes of fear. Viktor watched as Yuri opened his mouth as if to say anything but quickly shut it and grabbed the pillow to hug it tight to his chest.

 

“Ah, Yakov to what do I owe the call?” Viktor asked, keeping his voice calm and even, knowing that Yuri could only hear his side of the conversation.

 

“ _Have you seen Yura_?” Yakov asked.

 

“ _Nyet_ , I haven’t seen Yuri. Why is something wrong?” Viktor was carefully watching Yuri’s face. A range of emotions passed over as the child’s face, fear and disbelief being the two dominating his eyes, as he hugged the pillow tighter to his body.

 

“ _Yura seems to have run away from his… from the rink. He claimed to forget something from the locker room but he never came out and has been missing for over an hour. Are you sure he hasn’t tried to contact you?”_ Yakov asked.

 

“I hadn’t seen him but I’ll call you if he contacts me,” Viktor promised as he locked eyes with Yuri. “I promise.”

 

“ _Okay, and Vitya? If you do see or hear from Yura, you’ll look after him, right?”_

 

“Of course, Yakov, skater’s honor,” Viktor said before he muttered a goodbye and hung up.

 

“ _Spasibo_ ,” Yuri whispered without looking up.

 

Viktor was unable to stop himself from blinking as that was the first word Yuri had said since knocking on his apartment.

 

“You’re welcome, Yurochka,” Viktor answered and he was pleased when Yuri didn’t glare at him and loudly declare that his _deduskha_ was the only one allowed to call him that. “You should drink your tea before it gets cold. My _babushka_ used to always say that there was no problem too big that a cup a tea wouldn’t fix.”

 

 _Of course, she also said that if tea didn’t work that it was time to break out the vodka but Yuri is too young for that._ Viktor thought.

 

Yuri grabbed his mug and took a drink before he opened his mouth as asked, “Why…?” The blond paused as if to gather his thoughts. “Why did you lie to Yakov? He has to know that you were lying.”

 

“He probably does,” Viktor answered quickly. “But honestly, as long as we both show up to practice tomorrow it doesn’t matter.”

 

Yuri nodded before frowning. “Why…” Pausing again and biting his lip. It was then that Viktor noticed that Yuri’s face was red. Not red as though he was blushing but red as though someone had hit him across the face. Looking closer in the dim light Viktor could see the dried blood in the young man’s nose. Something the blond had missed when washing his face. “Why are you doing this?”

 

Viktor thought about lying but honestly, he didn’t know what he could say. _The truth_ , he thought. The truth seemed like a good start. “Because sometimes silence can be the best medicine.”

 

However, the silence was broken with the sound of the timer going off to signal that the Borscht was ready to eat. “Let’s go eat, eh? Bring your tea, Yura,” Viktor ordered, out of the corner of his eye Viktor watched as Yuri put down the pillow he had been hugging to follow the older skater back into the kitchen.

 

Putting the food into bowls Viktor stayed standing as Yuri returned to the bar stool he had been sitting on. “It’s not home-cooked, I’m afraid but I’m sure you already knew that. No reason for us to get food poisoning, I’m sure Yakov would have a fit…” Viktor continued chatting about some of the restaurants that he went to on a weekly basis.

 

It looked like Yuri was ignoring the chatter (which he probably was and Viktor wasn’t offended). But the moment the boy’s phone went off again Yuri, who had been eating the food at an even pace, dropped the spoon in the bowl and quickly silenced his phone again. Yuri’s breathes came out slightly panicked and he turned pale as he glanced at the phone.

 

“I’m not hungry,” Yuri muttered.

 

“Okay,” Viktor replied as he pushed aside his own bowl to grab the teapot. “As least drink some more tea.”

 

Viktor expected a snappy remark (even though he hadn’t heard one all night) but Yuri simply nodded and held out his mug for more tea. Without any promoting Yuri took his mug and returned to the living room. Viktor watched the child go and quickly finished his own bowl before putting Yuri’s bowl back in the fridge. He should probably throw it out but perhaps the blond would be hungry later.

 

Quickly washing the few dishes and emptying the teapot, he could also make more tea later, Viktor returned to the living room to see Makkachin laying on Yuri’s feet as the child had returned to hugging the pillow to his chest again. Viktor was about to speak when Yuri’s phone went off again and for a second the older skater feared the child might break it.

 

“Who keeps calling you?” Viktor asked, he tried to keep his voice neutral but firm enough for Yuri to know that he expected an answer.

 

“Everyone,” Yuri replied quickly, surprising Viktor. He predicted another few minutes of silence.

 

“Mila texted me earlier and I imagine that Yakov will try calling me again,” Viktor mentioned quietly.

 

The phone rang again and Viktor watched as Yuri flinched as though he had been hit before moving to silence the phone. Yuri turned his face to look at Viktor, even though he kept his head down, but it was then that Viktor saw the Yuri’s face was still red and looked as though a bruise was forming, almost like the child had been _slapped._

 

Yuri sniffed again and buried his face in the pillow. Viktor knew he would have to act quickly if he wanted to avoid tears (seeing Yuri cry would be a surprise because Viktor had only seen it once.) It had been right after Yuri’s father passed away and the child had thrown himself onto the ice and attempted a jump that Yakov told him under no circumstance was he to attempt for at least another year.

 

But Yuri being Yuri did it anyway and fell with deafening crunch and a blood-curling howl of pain. Yuri had broken his wrist in the fall and was trying to stop crying but was struggling to breathe, causing him to cry more in panic. Thankfully, it was Friday and within thirty minutes his _dedushka_ arrived and together with Yakov the trio had gone to the hospital.

 

So, yes, Viktor had seen a crying Yuri before but Mila and Georgi had skated over the child before he did to comfort him. Viktor wasn’t very good at comforting himself much less an angry, small child. Therefore, when the phone began to ring again Viktor scooped it up and answered quickly.

 

“ _Privet_ ,” Viktor greeted, placing a huge (fake) smile on his face. His blood began to freeze as the other person’s words.

 

“… _about time you answered you little brat. What were you thinking running off? Do you realize how bad that makes me look? And what about those jumps you did today? Pathetic! I swear you’re just a disappointment like your papa! Are you even listening to me, Yuri? Yuri?!_ ”

 

Viktor kept his face the same, his eyes refusing to betray the emotion he was feeling. This woman was Yuri’s _mother_. She was supposed to love her son unconditional, not try to tear down the child’s self-esteem. _No wonder Yura is so distance and angry, with all this pressure and focus on the imagine of the perfect son._

 

Mentally clearing his throat Viktor tried again. “ _Privet_. This is Viktor Nikiforvo, one of Yura’s rank-mates. Who is this?” Viktor asked, even though he knew the answer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yuri look up from his pillow and reveal his face which he could easily have been the poster for a terrified, abused child. _Which might not be that far off,_ Viktor thought.

 

“ _I’m Yuri’s mother, Elizaveta, I do hope he’s not bothering you Mister Nikiforvo_ ,” Elizaveta hummed. “ _He’s such a disrespectful child, honestly I don’t know where he gets it from._ ”

 

 _Not from his dedushka_ Viktor thought and he marveled the way the woman’s voice could be so smooth when a moment prior it had been an angry ball of rage that Viktor had no problem understanding where he had heard it before.

 

“He’s no bother, I forgot that I promised to watch some old shaking videos with him this weekend. It was the only time I was free so I brought him home from the rink with me. I can bring him…” Viktor paused as Yuri’s head shot up so fast Viktor was worried about whip-lash. The young blond was shaking his head nearly in tears at the mere thought of going back to his mother.

 

“ _Would you be so kind, Mister Nikiforvo? I don’t get to spend all that much time with my son, what with his busy training schedule and my work_ ,” Elizaveta stated.

 

 _That’s a lie_ , Viktor thought. Yes, Yuri’s schedule was busy but Viktor knew that his mother didn’t work anymore. _She’s more focused on spending the money Yura makes than making her own._

 

“I’d feel bad, I did promise Yuri this weeks ago and I’m borrowing the videos from a friend and only have them for the weekend,” Viktor lied with a sweet voice.

 

“ _Perhaps I could join you, Mister Nikiforvo,_ ” Elizaveta offered her voice becoming pushier.

 

Viktor glanced at Yuri and saw that the child was mouthing ‘ _nyet’_ over and over as silent tears fell down his face. Forcing himself not to blink in surprise at the sight of Yuri practically _begging_ , Viktor made his decision.

 

“I think not. Yuri is going to stay here for the night with me,” Viktor declared, his big smile still on his face but his words were sharp. Sharp enough to cause Yuri to lean back from him.

 

“ _You can’t do that! I’m his mother!_ ” Elizaveta snapped, her patience waning by the second.

 

“And I am his rink-mate and a two-year Grand Prix gold-medalist,” Viktor replied harshly. “Yurochka is the future of Russian figure skaters and he doesn’t need any negativity in his life. So, I’m going to have to ask you not to disrupt his or my own practice in the future. Consider yourself banned from entering Yakov’s rink.”

 

Viktor knew he had no right to do that, only Yakov could and even that logic was still a stretch. But Viktor was going to be damned if he allowed this tonic woman anywhere near his young rank-mate, his young friend. Yes, he considered Yuri to be a friend (even if the blond did not) and maybe would go as far as to see Yura like a little brother. _An angry little brother,_ but still someone who needed protection from this awful woman.

 

“ _You can’t do this!_ ” Elizaveta repeated with a shriek. “ _He’s my son. I have a right make decisions for his future. I could take skating away from him!_ ”

 

Viktor’s face darkened at the threat. He heard Yuri squeeze in fear at the dark look but focused his attention back to the phone. “Actually, Nikolai Plisetsky is listed as Yura’s legal guardian. Making him the only person who could declare that he didn’t want Yurochka skating and he would never do that. Now, kindly never call Yuri again. If _he_ wants to talk to you he will contact you. Do I make myself clear?” Viktor stressed.

 

Viktor didn’t even wait for the woman’s answer but simply ended the call. Without even looking at Yuri, Viktor went to the boy’s contacts and called Yakov’s number. Their coach answered after the first ring.

 

“ _Ahhh, Yura! Where have you been?!”_ Yakov demanded, his voice a mix of angry and worry.

 

“He’s here with me, Yakov,” Viktor answered. “And he’ll be staying here for the night and his mother will be banned from coming to the rink to see him.” Viktor knew that his words were not what Yakov expected but Viktor was generally direct by nature.  

 

“Of course, Vitya, I’ll let security at the rink know,” Yakov stated. “Anything else I need to know?”

 

Viktor moved to offer the phone back to Yuri but a firm shake of his head caused the older Russian to declare, “ _Nyet_ , just that we will both be there tomorrow morning for practice. And can you inform the others to stop contacting Yura’s phone. I’m going to turn it off for the rest of weekend.”

 

It showed how much Yuri was still shook up from the phone call that he nodded his head and looked like he wanted to shut if off right that moment.

 

“ _Yes, I will. And Vitya, spasibo. It means a lot to Yura, even if he won’t say it_ ,” Yakov whispered before shouting. “ _Don’t be late tomorrow_!”

 

Viktor chuckled as he ended the call before turning off the device. Glancing at Yuri, he saw that the boy still had tears in his eyes and was still hugging the pillow close to his chest. Reaching blindly behind him Viktor grabbed the poodle tissue box. The blond gave an annoyed huff but took some tissues to clean his face.

 

“You’re welcome to take a shower, Yura. There are fresh towels in the closet in the bathroom. Take your time,” Viktor offered.

 

Yuri stood up and made his way down the hall. Viktor waited until he heard running water before he let out a sigh. Being an adult was hard. How did people do it? Petting Makkachin for a few minutes Viktor picked up his book and began reading quietly. It wasn’t too long before Yuri came back into the living room and sat on the floor with his school bag, the child grabbed a green folder and Russian novel that Viktor recalled reading in school but couldn’t recall the plot.

 

Together the two Russians read in silence and Viktor was amazed at how much a shower could do for Yuri’s mental state. The boy looked the most relaxed that Viktor had ever seen. Yuri was calm and still, two emotional states that Viktor didn’t think were possible for the younger skater. The blond was usually full of fury and always on the move.

 

A yawn coming from Yuri had Viktor looking up from his book. Glancing at the clock Viktor saw that it was nearly nine, not late by any means but with their busy schedules, it was clearly around the time that Yuri went to bed.

 

“Did you mean what you said, earlier, I mean?” Yuri muttered looking down at his school work. Viktor blinked in surprise he had said a lot of things tonight. “About me spending the night, here.”

 

“Of course, it’s getting too late to go anywhere else for the night,” Viktor said with a bright smile. “Consider the guest room yours for the night.”

 

Yuri nodded and packed up his bag before heading off to the guest bedroom. Viktor stood up to take Makkachin out once more, by the time he got back he could see the lamp on in the spare bedroom and Yuri standing in the doorway. Viktor paused in the hallway and looked down at the blond.

 

“Did you need something Yura?” Viktor asked before he could stop himself. Yuri would never ask for help.

 

“Can I…”

 

Or maybe he could. Viktor waited patiently for Yuri to finish his thought.

 

“Can I stay here tomorrow and Sunday night?” Yuri asked looking up with a blush.

 

“Of course, Yurochka!” Viktor exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around the pre-teen in a tight hug.

 

“Ahk! Let go, old man!” Yuri shouted as he tried push the older skater off him.

 

It was most Yuri thing the child had done all night at it made the silver-haired Russian smile as he let go of the younger. _I missed that scowl, hard to believe_. Viktor quickly ruffed Yuri’s growing blond locks. The boy shot him another glare but it was more for show than anything else in Viktor’s mind. Turning to his room Viktor stopped when he heard Yura speak.

 

“Hey, Vitya,” Yuri whispered. “ _Spasibo_ , for everything.”

 

“ _Pozhaluysta,_ Yurochka,” Viktor replied.

 

Despite what many people undoubtedly thought Viktor Nikiforvo liked silence and it seemed that Yuri Plisetsky liked the sound of silence as well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Translation:  
> Thank you - Spasibo  
> Grandfather - Deduskha  
> Grandmother - Babuskha  
> Hello - Privet  
> You're Welcome - Pozhaluysta


End file.
